


Fall in Flames

by itallstartedwithdefenestration



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x23 spoilers, M/M, archangel-to-human type thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itallstartedwithdefenestration/pseuds/itallstartedwithdefenestration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam didn't have the privilege of watching every single angel fall from grace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall in Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt provided by the lovely rainyhart. Thank you muchly darling <3
> 
> Title from "Stars" off the Les Miserables soundtrack.

_“They were beautiful, weren’t they?”_

Sam swallows, shining his flashlight around the stones and trees of Purgatory, trying to find the entrance to Hell. _“They were,”_ he agrees, moving faster, the light from the angels falling still seared into his mind. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how it looked—like a meteor shower, like a cosmic mishap. _“That was how it was for you too, huh?”_

 _“Yes,”_ Lucifer murmurs in the back of his head, and then, _“Sam,”_ and the connection cuts out. But Sam’s at the gates of Hell now, and he doesn’t pause before pushing the stone aside and heading down, picking his way through ruin and destruction, ignoring the cries of the damned as he walks down the now-familiar hall towards the Cage. By the time he gets there, he’s shaking, covered in sweat, which is odd, because usually it’s so cool down here—but Sam’s not worried. Not when he can see Lucifer, fingers spread over the bars as usual, a tiny, sad smile on his face. 

“Luce,” Sam says, and starts forward.

“Hello, Sam,” Lucifer murmurs. He reaches out, when Sam’s close enough, and brushes his hand against his cheek. “You’re warm.” 

“I’m all right.”

Lucifer nods, then frowns a little. “Sam,” he says, and his voice is softer than usual as he pushes his fingers through the sweaty strands of Sam’s hair. “Did you do it?” He tilts his head, biting his lip, and Sam shakes his head no. 

“Couldn’t,” he says. “It was killing me, what I was doing. The Trials, they weren’t purifying my blood after all.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “Should’ve seen that one coming.” Sam sits on the floor, cross-legged, and Lucifer follows, one hand still resting lightly on Sam’s cheek. They’re both quiet for a few seconds, then Sam adds:

“The angels falling—that was. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen, Lucifer. It was so powerful—I couldn’t take my eyes off it.” He turns so that he’s facing his angel, and rests his forehead against the bars of the Cage, shutting his eyes. “I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like to go through it alone.”

Lucifer breathes in. “It was hurtling through space at a thousand miles per second, feeling myself burning up through your stratosphere, and knowing that no matter how loud I cried out, no one would ever hear me again.” He slides his hand down from Sam’s cheek, and curls their fingers together. “To be disconnected from your home like that, so suddenly, it. I would not have wished this fate on any of them, no matter how much they may have deserved it.” 

Sam nods. Then, opening his eyes, “Let me feel?” he asks, because when Lucifer can’t describe an angelic occurrence, or if he’s too tired out from his long years with only Michael for company, he’ll simply put pictures through Sam’s head via their connection—pictures and feelings, getting Sam the closest he’ll ever be to Heaven.

But this time Lucifer’s shaking his head, looking sadder than before, and Sam frowns with his entire face, eyebrows creasing together over the bridge of his nose as dawning realization comes into his eyes, and suddenly he knows why it feels so empty here, why it’s warm, why his chest hasn’t stopped aching since he set foot in Hell.

“You too, huh?” he asks quietly.

“I’m afraid so, Sam,” Lucifer says, and his voice catches on the last syllable. “My wings burned out about ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago. Michael was able to open the Cage before he—before his vessel imploded.” Lucifer gestures, and Sam sees scattered feathers behind him, the burnt sienna and gold of Lucifer’s wings mixed with the dark brown and ash of Michael’s. “But I’m just human, now, Sam. This is all I have to offer you anymore.” His eyes cut to the side. “Free me if you like, but I’ll understand if you’d rather I stay here while you return to your brother.”

A wave of something close to dread washes over Sam, and there is no pause between what Lucifer says and when Sam jumps to his feet, injured arm throbbing now as he wrenches the Cage open, grabbing Lucifer’s hand and pulling him out. “You think I’d just _abandon_ you here?” he’s almost yelling, hot tears streaking down his feverish cheeks, and before Lucifer can reply Sam is pressing him against the nearest wall and kissing him roughly, fingers grasping Lucifer’s hips. The former archangel hesitates, then, slowly, kisses back, fisting his hands in Sam’s shirt. 

When they pull apart, Sam shuts his eyes again and breathes out, pressing his forehead against his mate’s. “We’re gonna figure this out together, Luce, you understand me?” he asks. “I am not leaving you here to die.”

“Sam,” Lucifer murmurs, more of an acquiescence than anything else, and kisses him again.

“You can come live with me,” Sam adds. “I’m gonna take care of you, man.”

Lucifer laughs, mouth trembling against his vessel’s, and presses one hand against Sam’s throat. “You’re gonna teach me how to be as alive as you are, Sam?” The sadness in his voice is choked, heavy; even without the connection Sam can feel its thrum in his veins. “You’re gonna make me shine bright again?”

Sam lifts his free hand, pressing it against Lucifer’s chest, feeling his heartbeat as it struggles to regulate itself. “You shine bright all the time, Luce,” he whispers. 

“Goddamn romantic,” Lucifer mutters, but he’s smiling, and when Sam turns to leave, Lucifer’s fingers are still twined tightly in his, a promise that he’s never letting go.


End file.
